


7 Seconds

by L0wRain



Category: Mamamoo
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-06
Updated: 2018-12-06
Packaged: 2019-09-13 01:13:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16882812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/L0wRain/pseuds/L0wRain
Summary: They say it takes 7 seconds to make a first impression. For them, it took 7 seconds to make that impression, and quite a few handfuls of seconds to flip that impression on its ass. Literally.





	7 Seconds

**Author's Note:**

> There's probably an exaggeration on Byul's butt size but I'm rolling with it :) Also, you'll notice a distinction where I refer to Byul as a "woman" while referring to Wheein as "girl". The differentiation has limited association to how I see them in real life, and it's mostly for identification between when I'm talking about Byul vs Wheein, in an effort to avoid sounding repetitive.
> 
> My friends say I'm dramatic. I can't argue with them. :)
> 
> Warning: Excessive swearing, cuz filters don't exist in my world  
> Also Byulie, cuz Byulyi just..isn't.
> 
> I was also probably high when writing it, so enjoy the comedic fluff. xD

In a rather populated café, a lone woman with long dark hair is sitting at a table for two. About 3 miles away on a city bike, a young girl is aggressively pedaling, seeming to be in a rush.

Byulie is flipping a pen around her fingers as she impatiently waits in her uncomfortable wooden chair. Getting to the café 10 minutes early and her date being 20 minutes late, her already thin patience is basically dissolving wet rice paper at this point. There are two words that in her vocabulary that would accurately sum up her situation. Unfortunately, her gargantuan ego means that while the words 'stood' and 'up' are listed in her mental word compilation, the two words _together_ is most definitely not a phrase that can ever be used to describe her wonderful, sexy ass. Her need to protect and treasure this delectable posterior also means that 30 minutes of extremely-uncomfortable-chair-sitting (seriously, it needs to be an Olympic sport or something) has given her ass enough undeserved punishment for her to dramatically slam her hands on the table and stand up. Maybe she would have stayed longer if the seats were actually nice. She wouldn't know. The store wouldn't either. And although the delicious smell of fresh coffee delights her senses and beckons her to buy at least two larges to go, for herself, it clearly can't be that good if they aren't raking in enough dough for nice, _friendly-to-the-ass_ , chairs. So she becomes the petulant customer and struts towards the door with a huff. That'll teach them.

Wheein's calves and face are _fire_. She is 10 minutes late for her blind lunch date and that is definitely the last time she'll allow Hyejin to convince her to binge-watch Netflix until _4-in-the-fucking-morning_. (That's a lie. It's always a lie. Especially when her best friend bribes her with warm cuddles and chocolate.) Even with the biting wind causing tears to blur her vision, she spots something in the corner of her eye and skids to a stop so hard that she can practically _feel_ her wallet deflating from the need to buy new tires. Was it worth it though? She turns and cycles back to a little calico cat relaxing on a ledge in the warm sunlight. Definitely worth it. Snatching it from its cozy perch, she coos and cuddles the poor, struggling animal until she yelps when it manages to hook its hind claws into the sensitive meat of her flabby underarms. With a final screech and a hiss, it scrambles out of her arms and jumps to the ground, sprinting away down the street. She stands in near tears staring after the fleeing cat, little droplets of blood beginning to seep out of her wounds. Then she remembers why her legs are shaking and screams, getting back on her abused bike. 5 minutes later, she reaches her destination and parks her bike on a sign post, next to a suspicious, smelly puddle that she chooses to ignore. Bike safely locked, she runs a hand through her hair in a desperate attempt to calm the wayward strands before entering the café.

Just as Byulie reaches the exit, the door jingles and a girl walks in, her face red as a tomato, her hair a barely contained mess, and her arms bleeding…(arms bleeding??). Byulie takes a second glance and yep, those are thin trails of blood running down the inside of her arms. If anyone were to ask Byulie (no one did), this girl looks like one mistake from a mental breakdown and being sent to a mental institution. Widely side-stepping the wild tomato, Byulie walks past her and steps outside. She takes exactly 30 angry steps towards the bus stop when she pats her pockets and realizes something is missing. Something more important than anything else in the world. Something more important than her _life_. Byulie. Is. Missing. Her. Pen. And it's not just a pen. It's the pen. The pen that her desire, her idol, her _love, aka Krystal_ used to sign a dirty, used napkin that is now framed and at the center of her shrine dedicated to the woman at home. She must have left it on the table when she slammed her hands down in a dramatic attempt to express her displeasure. (Yongsun told her to stop being so dramatic, but she wouldn't listen. "It's how I express myself, Yonggie!!" "Say that again when you don't have your hand on my boob!" "I'm expressing myself! On your boob!")

When Wheein walks into the café, the strong scent of coffee immediately blasts her sinuses and she notices a gorgeous woman with angry eyebrows near the door. The woman gives her a once-over (she's probably blushing, but no one can tell because her face is already red from biking and the wind), and after a quick double-take, the woman completely side-steps her, giving her a wide birth as she walks out of the establishment. Did she detect a hint of fear? Or was that disgust? Mildly offended, she scans the semi-busy cafe in her first attempt to find her probably angry date. Frowning, she curses Yongsun for not setting up some kind of code word or action that would help her find her date, something like sticking a finger to her ear, or a random little hop, or blinking 5 times _really hard_. She has no luck, all the patrons either being with company already or enjoying their alone time, not seeming to be waiting for anybody. With a jolt, she realizes that the angry woman that walked out when she came in was most likely her date. She curses and runs out of the café.

Unwilling to part with her beloved pen for more than necessary, Byulie turns around and takes 30 calm ste- yeah, no, she runs 9 panicked paces until she's almost at the door, almost to her inanimate love, when the door opens and a blur slams right into her. Obviously, being made of skin and bones except her wonderful ass, it makes perfect sense that the heaviest part of her hits the ground first. _Ow. Ow ow ow ow ow. Oooooow._ In her surprised haze of pain, she sees mental-tomato-girl flailing her arms and taking steps in an attempt to stop her fall, which fails fantastically when all she ends up doing is ninja-running face-first into the concrete floor. Byulie groans, laying back and rolling over in an attempt to take pressure off the pain radiating from her posterior. Krystal wasn't worth it. She jolts up. Has she gone senile? Of course Krystal is worth it. With pure willpower she didn't know she had, she picks herself up off the floor and limps inside the café, past bewildered patrons who witnessed the scene through glass windows, to the table she was sitting at previously. Once her fingers close around familiar plastic, she almost cries with relief, exhaustion and pain from her arduous journey culminating into this one moment where all her life would have been lost if her treasure had been thrown away or stolen. With a tired sigh, she plops herself into the wooden chair and it takes everything, and literally _everything_ , gods in the heavens above, to not let out a horrendous screech from the extreme agony that her derriere suddenly subjected her to. "Mother _fucker_."

Wheein doesn't know what she did to deserve this thrice-damned humiliation. First, the cat of her dreams (any cat is the cat of her dreams) injures her when all she did was show it love and affection. Second, she gets side-stepped by a woman like she was some kind of disease (okay, she is bleeding, and her hair's a mess, and she was probably panting, and- okay, maybe she deserved that one). Third, after running into said woman, she poorly attempts to catch herself from falling with her chicken arms, which in retrospect would have been more useful if said arms were actually pointed in the direction of the _ground_ , leading to the final conclusion of where she ends up: In pain, face flat on the concrete, nose probably broken, and her butt up in the air. She falls to the side and lays there, silently whimpering, waiting for the pain radiating in her knees and face ( _especially her face_ ) to fade. Then she hears a groan and some shuffling. Seconds pass and she hears the door ring. Attempting to open her eyes is probably a bad idea, but she does it anyway. Through the pain, she looks around through the one remaining slit free of swollen flesh and to her surprise, she's alone. Well, not really alone. Through the café window she notices all the patrons looking at one thing: the angry-eyebrows woman. She is slowly limping through the shop, towards an empty table on the far right. Then she grabs something and she can just see all the tension coming from the woman fade into the air…and are those tears?? Angry-eyebrows' mouth opens in an 'o' as she breathes out a sigh and then drops herself on a chair. From 0 to 100, Wheein sees all previous tension _and more_ flood back to the woman while her cheeks puff as she holds her breath in what looks to be restraining a scream. The woman opens her mouth again after a few moments and, judging by the veins bulging in her neck, painfully says the word 'motherfucker'. Wheein can't help it anymore. Despite her pain and the woman's obvious agony, she starts giggling, eventually escalating to vivacious laughter.

Byulie closes her eyes and breathes slowly through the pain, resisting the tantalizing urge to just lie face down on the floor. After a minute passes and the pain has faded to a dull throb, she allows her senses to come back. She starts hearing loud laughter. Opening her eyes, she notices half of the café looking at her with various looks of horror and disbelief, and the other half looking with the same expressions outside. Taking a glance through the window, she sees mental-tomato-girl truly living up to her description. Her face is red and swollen beyond belief, and she's _laughing_ , despite the true pain she must be in considering her numerous wounds. Slowly, she comes to realize the hilarity of the situation and also begins to chortle. Ever so gently, she stands, pocketing her pen, and limps through the door to the café, and to the girl on the ground. Both of their laughs begin to fade until they're making eye contact, humor never quite dissipating as Byulie holds out a hand to help the wayward red vegetable.

"My name's Byulie Moon, what's yours?"

Taking her hand, Wheein is surprised at the surprising strength from the wiry woman.

"Wheein Jung, and I'm supposed to be your date."

Neither can hold back the lingering chuckles as they each play back the events of the previous minutes.

Not letting go of her hand, Byulie tugs Wheein in the direction of a bus stop.

"C'mon, I think we both deserve a visit to the hospital, and on the way, you can explain why you're bleeding from your arms."

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! :)


End file.
